


Live For Me

by corys_the_bosmer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But hopefully not, F/M, Feels, I’m sorry, Maybe - Freeform, Season 8, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 00:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corys_the_bosmer/pseuds/corys_the_bosmer
Summary: Brienne deals with the consequences of a battle against the army of the dead.





	Live For Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I’ve had in my head for some time now, and finally got around to writing it down.   
> Feel free to leave comments/constructive criticism, but please be gentle, I haven’t written anything in a very long time. :)

Somehow, she’d managed to keep herself together. 

All through the long march back to Winterfell Brienne tried not to think, tried not to feel, concentrating everything on putting one foot in front of the other. 

No-one was talking much. Most of them were too tired, too shocked, too heart-sick with loss, or just too cold. The walls of the castle finally loomed ahead of them, pin pricks of torchlight visible through the darkness and the swirling snow. 

Once inside the walls Jon Snow started making arrangements for the injured to be taken care of, giving instructions to find food and beds for those that had returned. 

Lady Sansa was there to meet them. She was glad to see Jon and Brienne uninjured, but Brienne could tell that the news of their losses weighed heavily on the young woman. 

She was relieved when Sansa said that she didn’t need anything from her, and excused herself to her room. Jon was making his way inside to find Tyrion and break the news to him. Brienne was grateful that at least she didn’t have to do that, even the thought of trying to put it into words was painful for her. 

Once alone in her room she shed her cloak and layers of furs, then her armour underneath. She unbuckled Oathkeeper from around her waist, pausing, as she had done so often before, to look at the way the light caught the gold of the finely-worked lion’s head. 

A memory came to her then, unbidden. A red tent in the middle of a siege, the day she’d tried to return the sword to Jaime. His refusal, and a look that she hadn’t fully understood at the time. 

The memory of that look was too much, and she felt the tears start to fall. The strength that had kept her walking for so many hours through the cold and dark finally deserted her. Her knees went from under her and she collapsed on the bed, still clutching the sword, his sword, their sword, in her hands. 

 

Brienne found herself in a clearing in the woods. A small campfire was burning, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around. There were green leaves on the trees, and the breeze that blew past her, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and flowers, was warm. It reminded her of another camp in the woods, so long ago. But this time she wasn’t tied to a tree and there were no men trying to hurt her. 

Not sure what else to do, she sat on a log by the fire. The night wasn’t cold, but the crackling of the flames was soothing. 

There was a rustle in a bush on the other side of the camp. A single figure approached, a man. Brienne got to her feet. It couldn’t be...

“Jaime?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but he heard her all the same. 

“Hello Brienne,” Jaime said, a slight smile playing on his lips. 

She took a step towards him. 

“How? I don’t understand...”

“It’s a dream. Your dream, I think. Or maybe this is my dream. Maybe we’re dreaming it together. I’m only ever whole in my dreams.”

He held out his hands to take hers, pulling her gently towards him. Brienne shook her head. 

“This isn’t real. It can’t be.”

But he seemed real. The warm touch of his skin, the faint smell of the leather of his coat, that smile again, and that now-familiar look in his eyes, soft and gentle, full of so much that he’d struggled to say out loud. 

“But I saw you die. I held you...” Grief tightened her throat, too painful to let her say any more. 

“I know you did. Thank you.”

“Thank you?” She managed to croak, confused. “What could you possibly thank me for? I failed you.”

Tears started to fall again. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, trying to hide them. She felt him wrap his strong arms around her, holding her close. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Brienne. We were hopelessly outnumbered. If Daenerys hadn’t swept in on her dragon...” He paused for a moment. “You were so brave. You did everything you could.”

“But it wasn’t enough!” She cried. “I wasn’t enough. I failed you, Jaime. And now you’re gone and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You listen to me, Brienne of Tarth,” Jaime told her, lifting her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. Do you hear me? You have fought as hard and as bravely as anyone I’ve ever known. You have more courage and honour than most knights. You are enough. You always have been. You’ve found a way to keep your oaths, no matter what. You defended me, even when I didn’t deserve it. You made me better. A better knight, a better man. I owe you so much. If I’d lived to be a hundred I’d have never been able to repay you for that. I love you Brienne. So very much.”

He brushed his thumb across her cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. Somehow her tears had stopped and her breathing had returned to normal. Brienne lifted a hand to his face, gently caressing it, feeling the hair of his beard under her fingers. There was more silver mingled in with the gold than there had been when she’d first known him. It seemed so strange to her now that she had ever despised this man, thinking him nothing more than a cold-hearted murderer. 

“I love you Jaime.” She said softly. He leaned forward and kissed her. It was sweet and gentle, unlike so many of the kisses they’d shared in their too-brief time together in Winterfell, that had been so full of passion and longing. She wanted to sink into it, into him, and never leave. 

They stood with their foreheads pressed against each other, enjoying a brief moment of peace. 

“You have to go back.” Jaime said quietly. 

Brienne shook her head. 

“I don’t want to. Not without you.”

“You have to. They need you. The Starks, Jon Snow, my brother, all of them. They need you to keep fighting.”

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“I know. But you need to. Just for a while longer. You have to keep fighting. You have to keep living.”

Brienne looked up, meeting his gaze. 

“Fight for them, Brienne. Live for me.” 

She managed to nod. Jaime smiled, and kissed her again. 

 

Brienne slowly became aware of the pale light creeping in through the small window of her room. She felt cold, having fallen asleep without pulling the furs and blankets over herself. She realised she was still holding Oathkeeper. She tightened her fingers around it, as if trying to hold onto her dream for a while longer. She could still feel the warmth of the campfire and of Jaime’s arms around her. She let the memory of his kiss and his words fill her mind. 

“Live for me...”

“I will, Jaime.” She murmured. She gripped Oathkeeper’s hilt, making another promise to him, determined to keep it, come what may.


End file.
